The Thin Line Collection
by Libstar
Summary: A collection of Mirandy one shots inspired by the tracks on Heather Peace's album The Thin Line. Rated M purely because I don't know for sure where any of them might go.
1. Chapter 1

`So a lot of what I write is inspired by music, one song can trigger a whole story in my mind and no artist is better at this than Heather Peace. I have a huge amount of love for her and her music especially her newest album The Thin Line and most of her songs make me think of our two favorite ladies. So I have decided to try and write a collection of fics inspired by each of the songs on that album. They won't be linked but will be snap shots of interactions between Miranda and Andrea. I'll try and post links to the songs where I can. I'll say now that she's not the most cheerful of singer songwriters so the chances of something really happy are slim but I've always been happier writing a bit of angst!

This is the first of these fics, inspired by the song I Pick Flowers. I recently saw Heather Peace live and she introduced this song by saying she wrote it in ten minutes because it was exactly how she felt at the time and it was dedicated to her wife Ellie. I love the song and I love the feelings it invokes and the images it puts into my head.

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><p><span>I Pick Flowers<span>

watch?v=-xPVL8_YVDw

Andrea closed the door to the townhouse behind herself and lent against it, absorbing the overwhelming feeling of being home after what had been, in her opinion, far too long spent away. She looked up when she heard paws on the hardwood floor and smiled at the sight of Patricia padding towards her. Dropping her bags she bent down and accepted the St Bearnard's lick of greeting, burying her hands in thick fur,

"Hey girl did you miss me?" the bark she received was all the confirmation she needed and pulled a smile onto her face as she kissed the dogs head and scratched behind her ears before pushing herself to her feet. The house was quiet as she had expected and while a part of her had hoped that Miranda would be home to surprise her she had known deep down that she wouldn't be. Things had been rough between them before she had gone out of state and it hadn't exactly improved over the three weeks she had been away. She desperately wanted to fix things but she was glad that she didn't have to deal with a confrontation the minute she walked through the door.

Deciding to leave her bags where they were for now, the toed off her shoes and made for the stairs. She needed a shower and perhaps a nap so she could deal with whatever happened when her wife arrived home.

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><p>Miranda kicked off her shoes the minute the front door closed behind her and hung her coat in the closet slightly irritated that she almost broke her neck on the pile of bags abandoned at the bottom of the stairs that belonged to her daughters. Moving them into the closet where they belonged she smiled when she found Andrea's hold all's beneath them. She felt slightly guilty that she hadn't been home when Andrea arrived but she had been so busy at the magazine that she had totally lost track of time. Now though, she was exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up with her wife and forget about the last month. It had been awful recently, they had both been busy with work, their schedules hadn't matched at any point and they were both exhausted, every interaction had ended in a clash. It was time that she fixed it<p>

Picking up her shoes she went in search of her family and her heart warmed when she found them all cuddled together on hers and Andrea's bed.

"Mom?" Caroline pushed herself up when she heard movement and Cassidy cracked her eyes open and smiled,

"Andy's home,"

"I can see that," she smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed and accepting kisses from her girls, "Why don't you two go and start your homework and we will order pizza later for dinner." the girls did as they were asked with no protest, closing the door behind them to give the other women some privacy. They were pleased Andrea was home, they had missed her but not as much as their mother had, they hoped she might smile a little more now.

Miranda slid along the bed careful not to wake the younger woman just yet. She took the time to study every inch of her wife's face and was sad to see that even asleep she looked exhausted. She was ashamed that she had very little idea what Andrea had been doing for the last several weeks. They had barely spoken and, even when they had, their conversations had been short and stilted. She had been so wrapped up in the magazine lately that she had forgotten what was really important, something she had sworn to herself she wouldn't do when Andrea had walked back into her life. Reaching out she brushed her wife's still damp bangs from her face and traced her fingers across her cheek, joining the freckles that had appeared on her skin in the last few weeks.

Andrea woke slowly, pressing her face into the warm hand on her cheek. Blinking her eyes open she smiled at the sight of her wife watching her,

"Hey," she said, rolling onto her back and taking Miranda's hand in her own, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"You're home," Miranda murmured linking their fingers and squeezing gently.

"I am," Andrea nodded, "I missed you." Tugging gently on the hand in hers she encouraged the older woman to lie down beside her and tucked her into her side.

"I missed you too." Miranda pressed her face into the crook of Andrea's neck and kissed the skin there, "Tell me about your trip." as Andrea spoke and threaded her fingers through her hair Miranda reaffirmed a promise to herself, to never again loose sight of what was really important and to never let so long go by without making sure Andrea knew how much she was loved.


	2. Chapter 2

The next in my series of Stories inspired by Heather Peace's album The Thin Line. I think this song is my favorite from the whole album, I love that she writes her own songs and that they actually mean something to her. This one was written for her friend when she came back from Australia with a broken heart. It's beautiful and if it catches me in the right mood it makes me cry!

This way lies angst!

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><p><span>House For Your Broken Heart<span>

In all the years that Nigel Kipling had known Miranda Priestly he had never seen her quite like this. He had stood by her side as she rose through the ranks of Elias-Clarke, married, had the twins, divorced and earned every moniker from Dragon Lady to Snow Queen but this, this was all new. Since Paris, Runway had been worse than hell, a day didn't go by without someone leaving in tears and ultimately being fired but that wasn't exactly what had him so worried. They were used to high staff turnover, Miranda regularly fired someone if she did not feel that they were pulling their weight or if she wanted to breath new life into the magazine but these firings, he didn't think they were covered by either of those reasons. This was something else, something that Nigel knew no one, except maybe Emily, would have picked up on and it worried him.

Over the past six months Nigel had been noticing changes in his friend, small changes, positive changes that were only obvious to Nigel who had known her for so long. He had gotten the impression that she was suddenly comfortable, happy in her own skin. He could see it in the twinkle of her eyes and the glow he occasionally saw in her skin. He wasn't sure what had caused it, not immediately, but he was sure that she had found the thing that he had wanted for her all along, what ever it was that she needed to realise her true worth.

But post Paris? Post Paris, any steps that had been taken in a positive direction had been hastily retraced plus several more besides. The twinkle in her eyes was gone, replaced with nothing, Miranda's eyes, usually the most expressive part of her face if you cared to look had become dull and hard over night, the glow in her skin had been replaced with a sallowness that was barely hidden by expensive make up and she had lost weight. Not enough for anyone else to notice but enough that he could see where her usually perfectly tailored clothes didn't quite sit on her body the way they should.

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><p>The final straw however, came the day when The Book landed on his desk accompanied by a frazzled Emily. The art department had returned the book early and had asked Emily if she could get Miranda to clarify some of her points. Emily had almost laughed in their faces, until she had actually looked at the notes her boss had left the previous night and nearly fainted.<p>

"Nigel, what on earth!" she squealed, flicking through the book and pointing out the scribbled notes that were almost illegible throughout, "I can't exactly go into her office and ask her what all of this means, the way she's been lately she'll fire me before I even finish my sentence."

"Oh calm down Emily, go and eat a cube of cheese or something." he said, rubbing his hand over his head and trying to mask his true concern, there was a great difference between Miranda being hell to work with and Miranda making a mess of her work. Which was why he found himself pushing through the townhouse door with the book tucked under his arm and the dry cleaning hanging over his shoulder.

"Emily." taking a breath and holding onto the fact that he was her closest friend and he was doing this out of concern, Nigel hung the dry cleaning in the closet then followed the voice to the downstairs den, "Where on earth is Emily?"

"Emily is, elsewhere." He said, taking in the sight of his friend without her make up then the half empty bottle of whiskey and almost over flowing ash tray on the table beside her and frowned, this was very, very bad and he knew that only one person had caused this. It wasn't Stephen and the divorce, she had confided in him the night before her wedding that she was only marrying the man because he seemed like he would make a good father figure for the twins, not things had started changing when Andrea Sachs had appeared in her lumpy sweater and awful shoes. Who would have thought little old Andy could break the Dragon. "And we need to talk."

"Oh we do, do we?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and he could hear that her voice was slightly slurred now, "And what could we possibly have to talk about? Hmmm?"

"How about the fact you've lost weight, or maybe the fact that its nine o'clock, the twins are upstairs and you are drunk, or maybe, just maybe, that the art department sent The Book back with no changes made because they couldn't read anything you had written because clearly you reviewed it last night in much the same state you are now." Emily would have fainted if she had heard him talking to Miranda like that, in fact, anyone would have but he had weathered far too many storms with Miranda Priestley to care, "Now you can deny it all you like Miranda but I know you and I know that something is going on, I wont leave until you talk to me."

"And say what?" she sneered, knocking back the rest of her drink in one go, "That she left me? That I told her that I thought I might love her and she ran a mile in the opposite direction. That I'm really as repulsive as everyone says that I am."

"Six?" he asked quietly, while he had made links to Miranda's improving then spiraling mood and the brunettes presence at Runway he hadn't for one moment expected love, lust perhaps, a way for Miranda to feel young and carefree, even hero worship from six but love and that Miranda had told Andrea well, it was no real surprise that she had just dissapeared.

"Andrea," she choked out and he was shocked to find her crying, in all the years he had known her it was one thing he had never seen her do and he floundered for a moment trying to work out what course of action to follow, "ill advised of course but by god Nigel, I could actually see a future with her."

Taking the weight off his feet before he actually fell down he pushed the book onto the table and turned fully to face his friend, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly. She looked totally broken, here in the privacy of her own home where she had let go of all of her walls to reveal just how broken she really was. He needed to call 'Six' she had been busy with the new job, it almost felt like she was avoiding him actually, but he needed to talk to her and soon and find out what really happened. Until he knew where the journalist stood he couldn't even begin to help the Editor move on because by god did she need help. All he could do for now was listen while she cried out her self deprecation, then later help her to bed where she would cry herself to sleep.


End file.
